


Chocolate

by shieldivarius



Series: Femslash Yuletide 2014 [11]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Edible Body Paint, F/F, Femslash Yuletide, Oral Sex, Prompt: Chocolate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 02:50:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5400080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shieldivarius/pseuds/shieldivarius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha picks her reward for finding a coin in her Christmas pudding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chocolate

**Author's Note:**

> All of the Melinda/Natasha stories in this year's Femslash Yuletide are in the same universe and chronological unless stated otherwise!

"I told you that you'd owe me," Natasha said. She was laughing as she said it, holding onto the coin she'd found in the Christmas pudding like it was a token. She waved the coin in front of Melinda's nose.

Melinda sighed and looked at the ceiling. "You did," she said. "You found the coin, you get a prize."

The colour was high in Natasha's cheeks, from laughter and from the bottle of wine they'd been sharing. They'd gotten snowed in; the snow from a few days ago hadn't stopped falling, and it had built up enough that the city had slowed to a crawl. The investigation into the Advent Gang was the only thing on either of their agendas right now, and Hill had told them to just not bother trying to get to HQ.

Which had somehow ended up leading to Natasha being at Melinda's, on the couch with a magnum of some vintage shiraz, now half empty.

Natasha was curled up on one end, and she flicked the coin up into the air and caught it, over and over again. Toss, catch. Toss, catch. Toss, catch. “What’s on the table?”

"Whatever you want," Melinda said.

Natasha’s eyes narrowed, a smirk touching the edge of her lips.

Toss, catch.

“Really,” she said, more a statement than a question.

“When you haven’t had,” Melinda eyed the amount left in the magnum, “a bottle of wine on your own.”

Toss, catch. Natasha rolled her eyes.

Melinda leaned across the couch and kissed the top of her head, her fingers slipping and sliding in the soft strands of Natasha’s hair.

She pulled away, and Natasha’s cheeks were redder than they had been the moment before. Was she _blushing_? That was… absolutely _delightful_ given the bedroom eyes she’d been fixing Melinda with for most of the conversation.

"I mean it."

"I know," Natasha said, and pushed out her bottom lip. Acting drunker than she probably was, but playful enough that she had to be drunk. Her cheeks were still red, and Melinda smiled at her.

"So, how many things can I redeem this coin for? How specific do I have to be?"

Melinda raised her eyebrows. "One, but I'll leave that up to you."

Natasha hummed and topped up Melinda's wine glass before pouring a little bit more into her own. She took a sip, and peered across the couch at Melinda, eyes narrowed and lids heavy, seductive, again.

"I have an idea," Natasha said. Then, "You don't have to protect me from myself, you know."

Melinda sighed, shifted into a more comfortable position, and pulled Natasha against her. Almost immediately, Nat's head lolled against the dip in her shoulder, and her legs curled inward. She was radiating heat—too much wine—and her motions were so catlike she might as well have started purring.

"I'm protecting myself from sloppy, drunken sex with you."

"I'm never sloppy." The affront in Natasha's voice would've been more effective if her wine glass hadn't tilted in her hand as she said it. 

"You're not convincing me of that right now," Melinda said. She plucked the glass from Natasha's hand and set it on the table. Kissed the top of Nat's head again. 

Wondered how much she herself had actually had to drink, that they were lying here being this affectionate out of no where, and it didn't seem uncomfortable in the least. 

Natasha shifted, propped herself up enough to kiss Melinda and—

 _Oh._ She was right. Natasha tasted of wine but there was _nothing_ sloppy about the way her lips caught and caressed Melinda's. Nothing sloppy about the way Nat's hand came up and slid along Melinda's cheek to tangle in her hair. Everything skillful about the way their open mouths danced against each other.

Natasha pulled away, a twinkle in her eye that dared Melinda to repeat what she'd said.

"Making out is allowed," Melinda said, clearing her throat as she clarified the earlier statement. Her cheeks felt a bit warm. She blamed the wine. 

"Oh, good," Natasha said. She breathed the words right up against Melinda's lips, so close that Melinda just closed her eyes because she couldn't focus on Natasha's features, anyway. 

Natasha kissed her nose, then caught her lips again.

 _'Oh, good,'_ indeed.

 

The coin reappeared two days later on top of a box wrapped in shiny red paper on Melinda’s kitchen table. Natasha was in the bathroom; she’d probably dropped the box there on her way.

Melinda picked it up, placing the coin on the table, and shook the box. Something moved back and forth a little, sounding like it took up most of the space.

She frowned, curious.

“You can open it.” Natasha leaned with her hip on the doorframe at the kitchen entrance, arms folded across her chest.

Melinda slid her thumb beneath the flap on one end of the wrapping, tearing it open and peering into the opened bit. The box was dark red, almost the same colour as the wrapping paper, with no image on it. She raised her eyebrow at Natasha, who gestured for her to keep going. She pulled the box the rest of the way out of the wrapping paper. No markings on the box.

She pulled the lid off, set it aside on the table, and frowned at the contents. 

A small jar lay neatly nestled in white tissue paper, a thin brush tied to its neck.

"Chocolate body paint?"

Natasha smirked. "You said  _anything_ was on the table."

"This isn't what I expected from you," she said, lifting the jar out of the box and turning it over to read the label.

Natasha had her head tilted to one side when Melinda looked back up. Her expression silently, politely, asked what Melinda had been expecting. 

Something less sensual, less intimate, but she wouldn't say it. She smiled, instead, and if, with that smile, she managed to mimic half of the effect of Natasha's drunken, seductive grins of the other night, she'd consider that a win.

Nat crossed the room and kissed her on the cheek, not answering the question of whether she’d been successful or not. “So?”

Melinda grabbed up the coin from the table and pressed it into Natasha’s hand. “So, accepted.”

 

Natasha lay against a pile of pillows, propped up on her elbows, and watched as Melinda painted messy patterns across her stomach. The chocolate ran together in drips and trails that made it impossible to do anything interesting with it, and Melinda might’ve been frustrated by that if not for Natasha’s expression.

Each and every glance up at Nat’s face gave Melinda the same view. The same image of open, bewildered amazement. Amazement, maybe, that Melinda would take so much time to lavish attention on her, in just the way that she'd requested.

Melinda kissed her stomach, lips coming away covered with sticky chocolate paint. She licked it from them and went back to trailing the paintbrush. Up, up, up Natasha's torso, spreading in a spider web of crisscrosses across her abdomen and around her side.

Natasha's head lolled back, hair hanging down, and she let out a soft gasp when Melinda trailed the paintbrush up and around the side of one breast. 

"Okay?" Melinda asked. 

Natasha nodded. 

Melinda set the paintbrush aside and trailed her finger through the paint. She dragged it from Nat's bellybutton, up between her breasts. The chocolate trail stopped halfway, but Melinda kept going until she cupped Nat's jaw in her hand. Regaining control of her neck in a slow motion, Nat looked down at Melinda for a moment before Melinda kissed her. 

Nat murmured something when they parted and Melinda looked at her askance. Hands came up on either side of her and Nat seemed to be pushing her back. Melinda started recoiling, quickly.

"You're going to get your shirt covered in chocolate," Nat said, enunciating the words like she was repeating herself.

"Oh," Melinda said. Her fingers had chocolate on them, too, and she looked down at the buttons on her blouse for a moment. She was about to sacrifice the shirt when Nat sat up a bit and she started undoing the buttons. Beneath the chocolate, her abs flexed to hold her in position while she worked, and Melinda watched them, a little entranced.

Natasha pushed the shirt down Melinda's shoulders when she was done, and she shrugged out of it. She tossed her bra off, as well, not caring if a little chocolate got on that.

Natasha trailed a finger through the drying chocolate on her stomach and streaked a bit across Melinda's chest.

She shivered. The chocolate was sticky, and warm, and a clash of sensations with the cool air of the room newly right up against her skin. Showing off her abs again, Natasha sat up and used her lips to suck up the chocolate she'd left on Melinda's chest. Her hands slid across Melinda's back, holding her when she shivered again.

"I thought this was about you," Melinda said, heat growing in her now that she was sitting atop Natasha, both of them half-naked.

"It was," Nat said. "Now it's about you."

Melinda shrugged out of Natasha's hands and crawled back down her body, to the mess of chocolate she'd left behind. "At least let me get this, first," she said, and started following the designs she'd made with her tongue. She ran her fingers up and down Natasha's thigh as she did it, idly tracing the hard inseam of her jeans.

One of Nat's hands found her free one and twined their fingers together. She squeezed Melinda's hand with every breathy little noise she made. Melinda squeezed back.

With the chocolate cleaned up best it was going to be, Melinda left openmouthed kisses along the very last trail, all the way up to Natasha's side until she reached a breast and began kissing along underneath it. She peered up through her eyelashes, trying to watch Natasha's face as she did it, but Nat's head had fallen back again.

Melinda's wandering fingers reached the crux of Natasha's thighs and her legs fell open at the merest brush there.

"Let me," Natasha said, starting to sit up.

"Later," Melinda said, and brushed her away. "Still about you."

Natasha looked a little confused, and Melinda kissed the crease building between her eyes. "I've seen you make it about me," she said. "Thinking I didn't notice."

She danced her fingers upward, near the zipper of Natasha's jeans, and Natasha let out a soft breath but didn't loll back again. "Wasn't all about you," she said.

"Good." Melinda took one rising nipple in her mouth, ran her tongue around it and felt it harden. Natasha groaned, and this time fell right back, nipple sliding from between Melinda’s lips altogether.

Melinda took the opportunity to take Natasha’s other hand in hers and, with their fingers twined together, leaned in and kissed her again. Nat made a noise that—dare she say it—sounded happy.

Moving from Nat’s lips, she placed a gentle kiss at the corner of them and then started working her way down, pressing kisses along Nat’s jaw, against the pulse point on her neck, and scattered across her collarbones. 

She trailed her lips down Natasha's torso, between her breasts, following the line of kisses with soft strokes of her fingers. Her other hand remained entwined with Natasha's, Nat holding on tight. 

Melinda reached the top of Natasha's jeans and her fingers found the button. She traced one finger back and forth along the waistband, teasing, feeling the soft skin of Nat's stomach against the tip and the rough denim against the side.

She paused to press a kiss right on the angry bullet hole scar on Nat's hip. 

The pause was apparently a moment too long, or maybe she’d focused on the wrong thing: Natasha grabbed at her hand and nudged it out of the way, undoing the button on her jeans herself and starting to shimmy out of them.

"Stop teasing," she growled.

Her lips an inch from Natasha's skin, Melinda laughed. Nat shivered.

Continuing her trail of kisses, she touched her lips to the silken scarlet fabric peeking out between the open bit of zipper. She slipped the pull down the rest of the way and helped Natasha push the tight fabric down as far as her knees—placing a peck on each one when she got there—before crawling back up. Melinda danced her fingers up the smooth, bare skin of Nat's inner thighs, sliding toward and around the lines of her panties without crossing into any part covered by fabric.

Natasha made a frustrated noise. Melinda knocked her hand out of the way when it slid down her stomach, fingers seeking the wet spot starting to show at the crux of her legs.

On either side of her, Natasha's legs jerked like they wanted to press together.

As gently, lightly as she could, Melinda ran two fingers across the smooth, silky material that covered Nat's outermost lips.

Nat whimpered.

The sound was so soft Melinda almost missed it. A sigh followed it, a shuddering of breath, and Nat's stomach tensed up.

Melinda ran her hand across the tense muscles. 

"Okay?" 

"Yeah," Natasha breathed.

Peering up at Nat's face as she did it, trying to gauge her reaction, Melinda lowered herself back down and mouthed gently over the damp spot on Nat's panties, drawing another breathy whimper from her. It came out tense and choked, though, like she was fighting to hold back.

Her nose pressed against Nat's heady scent, the fabric warm against her lips and Melinda lingered there a moment, tonguing the indent there through her panties over and over, tasting a hint of the moisture building there as it seeped into the fabric. 

Natasha squirmed, her hips twisting as Melinda teased her. Her breath was coming faster, noisy and in sharp, shaky intakes through her mouth.

A rush of heat spread through Melinda, down to her own core, and she pressed her thighs together, trying for some friction.

With one hand, Melinda pulled Natasha's panties down, sliding them slowly over her legs. Nat's hands joined her after a moment and she motioned Melinda aside and took off her jeans and underwear altogether, throwing them over the side of the bed.

She reached up and cupped Natasha's mound in one hand, sliding one finger across the damp slit, barely breeching her inner lips. Natasha pressed up against her.

Melinda laughed a little, to herself, at how eager—almost undone—Nat had become with the teasing. She ran her fingers through the short clipped hairs there and spread apart the lips hiding beneath them. Leaned inward and gave a soft huff of warm breath across the dampness there.

Again, Natasha twisted and gasped beneath her.

One quick stroke of her tongue, lapping up the moisture slowly building and spreading it upward, made Nat cry out. Her legs made a motion as though to snap together, but she seemed to remember herself when one knee knocked against Melinda's arm. She relaxed again, legs up and sprawled wide.

Melinda ran her tongue up and down Nat's slit again. She gave little strokes of her fingertips, too, on either side of the skin where her tongue went to work.

Nat moaned.

Fingers brushed against Melinda's when Nat tried to touch herself again. Again, Melinda knocked her hand away, humming her disapproval right up against Nat's clit.

Natasha squirmed and cried out again.

Her breath was coming much quicker, now, and the moisture building from her vagina started to flow. She bucked—once, twice—when Melinda's thumb finally found her clit and started circling. She brushed the bud with her thumb as her tongue traced designs up Nat's labia from top to bottom, zigzagging back and forth.

Natasha's fingers twined in Melinda's hair, alternatively pulling and pushing her head down.

Melinda stroked her free hand down Nat's trembling thigh. Then she locked her lips around her clit and sucked.

Those powerful thighs closed around her shoulders, shaking and Nat let out a faint, sobbing cry when she came. Melinda stroked gently up and down her soaked lips as Natasha trembled down from the orgasm.

Her other hand she snaked down her own bare stomach, squeezing her fingers into her waistband without bothering to flick open the button of her jeans. Her eyelids fluttered closed at the first brush of her fingers against her clit and she ground her hips down again them.

“Let me,” Natasha said again, and pulled away from Melinda’s fingers.

Nat sat up and pulled Melinda against her until her back rested against soft breasts. On either side of her, Natasha’s legs still shook a little, but her arm was steady when she slid a hand down to join Melinda’s where she touched herself. From over top of the fabric, she pressed Melinda's hand down, helping her hump against it. 

Natasha lifted her hair out of the way and kissed the side of her neck. Without breaking the contact of her lips to Melinda's skin, she popped open the button on Melinda's jeans and wormed her hand in beneath Melinda's. 

Melinda shivered. Nat's hands were cool, soft, and her fingers replaced Melinda's desperate rubbing with teasing strokes. 

Nat's other hand found her right breast and two fingers grazed it, then started rubbing slow circles around it. Her other hand mimicked the motion on Melinda's clit and Melinda's head fell back, electricity shooting through her.

Natasha pecked kissed up the side of her neck, to her ear, and Melinda fought down a whimper, pressing her lips together to keep it from spilling out. 

"Come for me," Natasha murmured in her ear. "You can let go."

It crossed her mind that Nat was a hypocrite—

And then her fingers picked up their pace against her clit and Melinda forgot why.

Natasha continued to press kisses to the side of her neck as Melinda came down, and she turned her head, hand sliding against the back of Nat's to manipulate her so she could meet her lips.

"Okay?" Nat asked.

"I'm not done with you," Melinda murmured.

One of Natasha's eyebrows slid up. "You're the one still wearing pants."

 _Half_ wearing pants. They'd slid down her hips a bit in the frantic motions, but Nat was right.

"Does that mean I won this round?" Melinda asked.

Natasha laughed, her bare breasts shaking against Melinda's back.  "Just means we're still playing."

**Author's Note:**

> http://shieldivarius.tumblr.com


End file.
